


Sunlight Sucks

by Astrodynamicist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drunk Sex, M/M, Morning After, Vampire!Sollux, or rather the aftermath thereof, with all its attendant tags (sunlight burns blood is drunk etc)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1861089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrodynamicist/pseuds/Astrodynamicist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some skinny asshole wearing nothing but mustard-yellow boxers is writhing on the floor under the light from the window, screaming and smoking. Like, literally he looks like he’s about to combust. You shout above the din, “AR, what the actual fuck?!” and press your palms against your eyes and hunch forward, because obviously going into the fetal position is going to help this situation.</p>
<p>Your computer whirs to life beside you. “You hooked up with a vampire last night. And may I just say, sir, excellent choice of one night stand.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunlight Sucks

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HSWC Bonus Round 3. Prompt from shianneurami:
> 
> "Sollux/Dirk
> 
> Sollux is a vampire who hooks up for a one night stand with Dirk and ends up drunk as hell passed out in his dorm room. The morning light streaming through the window at dawn is a lot less than pleasant."

The morning after the big fraternity rager you are awoken by the sound of somebody screaming in agony.

Awesome. This is a great start to your day.

You jerk bolt upright, winning yourself the sensation of having a railroad spike driven into your skull (yay, hangover) and also a really strong wave of lightheadedness (what the hell?). Some skinny asshole wearing nothing but mustard-yellow boxers is writhing on the floor under the light from the window, screaming and smoking. Like, literally he looks like he’s about to combust. You shout above the din, “AR, what the actual fuck?!” and press your palms against your eyes and hunch forward, because obviously going into the fetal position is going to help this situation.

Your computer whirs to life beside you. “You hooked up with a vampire last night. And may I just say, sir, _excellent_ choice of one night stand.”

“Shut up and also fuck you.” You can’t think through the screaming and your own pain, so you grab your ironic Thomas the Tank Engine duvet and toss it across your tiny dorm so that it lands (mostly) on top of the vampire. He manages to flail the rest of himself under it and the screaming stops. Thank God. You can almost hear yourself think again.

You fucked a vampire. You went to a party, got hilariously drunk, and took a vampire home to fuck. You realize your neck aches, and gingerly run a hand over it. There are bite marks. Actual puncture-wound bite marks. You groan.

“The fuck are you moaning about, athhole? I’m the one who jutht nearly burned to death.”

“And whose fault is that? Aren’t you guys supposed to flit away into the night after feeding? Did I manage to pork the world’s most incompetent vampire?”

“Thut up. I wath drunk.”

“Dude, even Edward Cullen never fell this low.”

“I’m warning you.”

“What are you gonna do? Crawl over here and snuggle me to death in my own quilt?”

The edge of the duvet lifts and a pale face scowls up at you. “Watch it - I have all kindth of badath vampire powerth.”

“Like lisping? Is that a vampiric superpower?”

“I’m thorry, I can’t hear you over my _enormouth deadly fangth_.”

“Enormous deadly fangs that make you sound like an asshole.” You untangle yourself from your sheets and get up, wobbling as another wave of lightheadedness hits. You stumble across your room to your tiny, shared dorm bathroom. It is thankfully devoid of puke, so you park yourself in front of the mirror and examine your mondo vampire hickey. That side of your neck is basically one giant bruise roughly centered around a pair of tiny red marks. You’ve got a whole bunch of standard garden-variety hickeys, too, scattered across your collarbones and chest. “Man, you really take the whole ‘chew your food before swallowing’ thing seriously, huh?”

He doesn’t answer. That is probably not a good sign.

You splash some water on your face and return to your room. Vampire Asshole has, apparently, crawled under your bed, divesting himself of your duvet at the edge of his shadowy refuge. Instead of checking on him, you flop down beside your mini-fridge (falling with rather less motor control that you were anticipating; damn, you are starting to worry about this), pull out a bottle of apple juice, and chug half of it.

“Can I have thome?”

“What?”

“Can I have thome juithe?”

“No you cannot have some of my juice. You drank like half my bodily fluids last night, how are you even still thirsty?”

“Thtop being thuch a baby. I only drank, like, a liter of your blood. Two literths topth.”

“And what about the other ones? How much of my poor, innocent semen did you ingest last night?” You can make out his form under the bed flipping you off. You can also make out his muscles. His wiry, well-developed muscles. Dude is _cut_.

_Purr_.

But still, he came into your house and insulted your missing fluids, so you chug the rest of the AJ out of spite. He throws a shoe at your head in response. “Wow, was that another one of your badass vampire powers?”

“I thpent them healing the burnth. Now I’m hungry again. Latht night wath bathically worthleth now.”

“Uh, excuse you, sex with Dirk Strider is never worthless.” You drag yourself up, toss the empty bottle in the trash, and after a moment’s consideration grab a second one which you roll over to Asshole.

“What’s your name again?”

He pauses his eager gulping down of the juice. “You don’t remember? I’m hurt, Dirk. How could you forget the name of your own lover? It’th almotht ath if you are the thittietht fuckbuddy in all of thpathe and time.”

You start pulling on clean clothes. “Let me guess, it’s some big vampire thing that you can’t give out your name without becoming somebody’s bitch.”

“Nah. My name’th Thollux.”

“Thollux or Sollux?”

“The thecond one.”

You nod and shrug on your leather jacket. If you turn the collar up, you should be able to keep people from noticing the hickeys long enough to get some make-up or something to cover them. Plus, you’ll look extremely cool.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Breakfast.”

“You can’t jutht leave me here!”

You glance back at him. Anxiety clouds his expression. It occurs to you that he probably didn’t wear anything to keep off the sun last night, since, you know, cover of darkness was a thing. So now he’s stuck in a stranger’s dorm until night falls again, with no prospect of getting home or eating anything.

And he _was_ woken up by almost being burnt to death.

You start hobbling around the room collecting his clothes and tossing them to him. “C’mon dude, I owe you breakfast anyhow. It’s the law of mornings-after – sex is exchanged for breakfast, awkward bonding occurs over crappy diner food, phone numbers are perhaps exchanged-“

“Thuck my dick.”

“We already did the sex part, now it’s breakfast time. Pay attention.”

“I can’t feed on you again, not tho thoon. Tho thuck my dick, athhole. Only one of uth getth to have breakfatht.”

You stare at him. You are staring in disbelief, but you keep your face blank so he won’t actually notice. “Okay, first, what exactly is the nutritive value of vampire spunk? Because unless it can match pancakes for calorie count, you’re just going to have to accept that some of us can’t subsist on a diet of bodily fluids.” He glares at you. “Second, can’t you just snack on a fucking lunchlady or someone while I eat?”

“…I gueth.”

“Perfect, it’s a date.” You toss him his last articles of clothing, then drag yourself to your closet to dig out a hoodie (a very school-spirit-heavy affair your sister got you as an ironic going-away gift) and a baseball cap. You toss these to him as well. “Will that be enough to keep you from going all ashes-to-ashes on the way to the dining hall?”

He nods, though he frowns with distaste as he regards the hoodie. The bright magenta clashes magnificently with his blue-and-red rave gear, not to mention your orange cap. He finally crawls out from under your bed, all covered up against the light. You hold the door open for him with a flourish. He flips you off again, but you can see the smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

In the end, you eat several entire stacks of pancakes (which makes you feel a lot less like animate jello), he sneaks off with a freshman for what the latter probably thought was going to be hot janitor’s closet sex but which obviously was actually vampire drinkies time, and you and Sollux do, in fact, exchange numbers. Not your usual protocol when it comes to one night stands, but then it’s not every ill-advised drunken sexcapade that lands you a supernatural maybe-boyfriend. And hey, maybe next time you can get him to wake up screaming for entirely different reasons.


End file.
